Lemonade Mouth
Cinderella's sneakers
By Ella Lavender
So I originally planned this story to be separated by actual chapters but because I'm pressed for time and I have exams and homework to deal with, I didn't want to risk missing an update so I stuffed everything up into one chapter.
Worry not; it is separated within that one chapter with sub-headings so you won't get confused.
Also, this story isn't all that long anyway so physically separating the chapters didn't feel necessary…
Anyway…
I don't own Lemonade Mouth or its characters
(^^)
Chapter one: Cinderella Wanted
The conversation started off simply enough:
"Hey Stella what's up?"
"Hey Mo, everything's great! How goes life with you?"
But took a turn for the worse with the words: "Stella, as one of your best friends, I say this because I love you: You need a date."
The young revolutionary and electric guitarist couldn't remember exactly what had happened during the conversation; all she knew was that it started off fine, absolutely fine. And then the turning point came in when Scott Pickett's name was mentioned.
It was a simple question at the time.
Nothing life-changing or even surprising, in fact, it was utterly predictable. The reaction of the Indian Bassist however was not.
"So where's Scott?"
"Scott?"
It was as if she had no idea who her own boyfriend was. And when the angry water works began, Stella needed no explanation.
"That idiot! What did he do now? Was it Jules again? I'll rip that blonde hair right out of her skull, and I'll take that nonexistent brain with it!"
"Oh get in line Stell, I have first dibs!" Mo claimed angrily, her fists shaking at her side. "And yes, it was Jules! He had the balls to say nothing was going on when she was practically hanging off his neck, I mean what kind of idiot does he take me for?"
"That's right, be angry Mo, you don't deserve that bull! You deserve a guy that will put you first and always! What was that guy even thinking?"
The Indian girl shook her head, her long brown locks flying as she tried to calm her temper. "But that's not why I'm here."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Again, it was an obvious question. What other reason would Mo have to talk to Stella other than to tell her about Scott? Sure they were best friends, but what other reason would Mo have to talk to her about?
"Well I don't want to mope around like all those other girls who get cheated on, I want to do something constructive!"
"Oh, you mean write a new song? Because I've got a few ideas! I haven't got the words yet, but if you're looking for a song like 'She's so gone' then I've got your instrumental covered!"
"Nothing to do with the band Stell," Mo claimed shaking her head. Gosh. The half-Asian guitarist was such a workaholic.
"Then what? Because the only other thing I have in mind might get you a record on Brenigan's files."
She tried not to roll her eyes. Honestly she did. But sometimes Stella was so narrow-minded when it came to what to do with her time. If it wasn't the band, it was causing trouble for Brenigan. Mo didn't understand the ways of a troublemaker, but what she did understand was that Stella needed to take up more…feminine pursuits.
Olivia got the picture. Sure she didn't know much about boys but she had feminine hobbies. The blonde front-man liked knitting, and her cat, and baking with her grandmother, and she loved shopping for shoes! The last part was the epitome of girly!
Mo was determined to find Stella's inner girl.
"Stella what do you do other than make music?"
She shrugged. "Stuff, I don't know."
"Well, do you like shopping?"
"For guitars."
"Right…right." No. Not right.
"How about hang outs?"
"Dante's of course."
"Right, of course." No not of course.
"How about…boys? Any boys?" Being Mesa's most popular band (alongside Mudslide Crush) Stella had to have fan-boys. She was the leader of Lemonade Mouth, the lead guitarist, the revolutionary of Mesa High. Surely she'd have admirers.
"Uh no? Other than Wen, Charlie, my brothers and my dad, and Pickett and Beech but they don't really count do they?"
Face-palm.
"Stell, you love me right?"
"As a friend and sister yes," Stella answered, her brow cocked curiously. "What are you getting out?"
"You'd want me to move on from Scott don't you?"
"Of course…and…?"
"And the best way for me to get over him is if I'm distracted."
"Why not go rebound?"
"Because I'd never do that to Charlie," Mo replied shortly.
"Whoever said anything about Charlie?" Stella asked, her brow raised in a teasing manner, getting the Indian girl to flush. "Look it doesn't matter. Alright, my mission is distraction."
"And you're turning to me? I mean, not that I don't…not want to help you out Mo, but I don't really understand what you want me to do."
"I want you to by my little Cinderella."
At the blank look, Mo elaborated, "I've always wanted to play Fairy-Godmother and you're just begging to be turned into a princess Stell!"
The blank look remained but Mo was determined.
"Come on Stell, haven't you ever dreamed of being a princess? Those dresses, the happy ending, the fairytale prince?"
"And how did you come to the conclusion that I needed a Fairy-Godmother?
Of course Stella would see right through that charade. Mo inhaled and stated, "Stella, as one of your best friends, I say this because I love you: You need a date."
"And you'd want to get me a date after Scott cheated on you because…?"
"Because I need a distraction and getting you a date would be a perfect one!"
From there the conversation went downhill.
"And why would I need a date?"
"No reason Stell, I just…think you would like to have your fairytale, you know…"
"No I don't. Now why don't you go right down to it?" Stella demanded coolly, her expression masked in slight annoyance. She found the whole thing funny, why would someone who got cheated on want to find someone else a boyfriend? Still. She wanted to know exactly what was on Mo's mind and if it meant sending her down the wall so be it.
"Well it's not…exactly…the fairytale…more like the girly stuff you know? The shopping, the manicures, getting your hair done…that sort of thing?" Mo finished awkwardly. Why didn't she drag Olivia into this mess too? Oh yeah, because Olivia was happily taken by the Lemonade Mouth's pianist and Mesa's resident Nice Guy. Of course. Pfth. Happy couples.
At the look on Mo's face, torn between looking determined, looking upset and looking pleading all at once, Stella found herself agreeing to something she'd never even considered to since she realized how sexist Fairytale princesses were.
"Fine. I'll be your Cinderella."
(^^)
Chapter two: Death by spa treatment
Stella hated herself.
She wanted to run herself over.
With a tractor.
Being pulled by a cow.
Being ridden by Ray Beech.
She gritted her teeth. Why? Why did she agree to this?
"Isn't this just sooo relaxing?"
If you mean soooo weird, then yes. It's very relaxing. I mean, having people check your nails, tsk over your lack of grooming and then proceed to hack said nails off with a saw, was exactly what Stella called relaxing. If she were high and crazy at the same time.
A pair of women attended to both teenagers each, one taking care of finger nails, the other taking care of toe-nails.
They spoke with over exaggerated French accents, but Stella was sure if someone from France walked in at this moment, no one would know what they heck they were saying.
"Oh goodnez mademoiselle, thez nails, oh my!"
Yes, yes, my nails are bit worse for wear. I'm a guitarist, I don't usually use a pick; it's just my style. If you want to lecture me the job of parent is already taken, Stella wanted to say but she kept her silence for Mo's sake.
The things she does for her friends.
Inhaling a deep breath, Stella prayed no one from school saw her.
She didn't care what people said about her but she had a reputation. A badass, loudmouth rockstar cringing over getting her nails done? Beech would have a field day. Speaking of which…
Determinate, determinate!
"That yours Stell?" Mo asked, completely absorbed in being preened by the fake Frenchies.
"Yeah, hold on a sec would you?"
Ignoring the lady doing her nails, Stella reached for her cell-phone in her pocket and turning it on loudspeaker, "Don't you have something better to do than to annoy me?" she greeted without even having to look at the caller I.D.
"Hello to you to Yamada, wow, by that fast reaction to my call you must've been waiting. Miss me?"
"Like a tooth ache," she retorted. "What do you want Beech?"
"Nothing, nothing, I was just wondering how the nerd's doing."
Stella glanced at Mo, whose eyes were shut in relaxation even at the name calling Ray was doing. "She's fine, perfectly fine, how's the douche monkey?"
"Pickett's crying for a second chance, any takers?"
"Let's ask her," Stella stated in her fake game-show-host voice, turning to Mo who opened her eyes at the word, 'douche-monkey'. "Mo, the asshole wants you back."
"Tell him to go dig a ditch and die in it."
"Did you hear that cupcake?" the half-Asian asked condescendingly and paused to listen to the two soccer players arguing from over the line, the words, "I told you so," coming from Ray's mouth and "Try again," coming from Scott.
She rolled her eyes.
"Mo's over you Pickett take your blonde cheerleader and walk."
"Stella just -" Scott tried to speak, but Ray cut him off, "Take my phone and I kill you, she'll drop the line."
"You're damn right I'll drop the line, give the phone back to Ray."
"Hell Stella, just let me talk to Mo and – oof!"
"Did you punch him?"
"Yes."
"Is he bleeding?"
"Not yet."
"Oh good. Nice shot. Now go play Ray, I've got terrorists with more in common than you."
He snorted. "Yeah, yeah, go to hell sweetheart."
"I've heard of relationship banter but that was something I've never heard before," one of the ladies claimed, totally dropping the fake French accent. Stella scoffed. "Oh please, if there's any relationship between me and this guy is the fact that we both hate each other."
"Aw isn't that cute? They're both in denial."
The rest of the ladies proceeded to giggle and coo.
Stella was embarrassed. But she would've been even more so when she realized that Ray had yet to disconnect the line.
(^^)
Chapter three: Let Girly Commence
"So what kind of dresses are you looking for?"
"Er…nice ones?"
"…well…what color do you want?"
"…a nice one?"
"Hmm…" the streak haired teenager assisting her looked thoughtful, but Mo looked almost embarrassed. "I'm sorry she's new to this whole girly thing."
"I understand, it's alright," she said, waving her off. "Let's just see here though, what are you comfortable wearing? Something long, something short? Something that's tight, or loose, or princess-y?"
Mo brightened at the word princess but Stella cut her off, "Anything, let's try anything."
Her Indian best friend pouted. "Aw Stell…"
"Just let me pick the dress, you can pick the shoes, please?" Stella begged. She'd already done the jewelry shopping, the handbag shopping, the accessory shopping; doing all of it with Mo and Olivia was fun, doing it with Mo who was determined to forget anything that didn't involve Stella's transformation into something girly was…torturous as best.
"Yes don't worry, I've helped a lot of tomboys and non-girlies find their inner girly-ness, I won't fail your friend don't worry!" the girl with the streaked hair promised giving Mo a winning smile.
Eventually Mo agreed, but only on the condition that she could pick any shoes that she wanted Stella to wear. She cringed but consented. One hour of respite would be golden.
"Thank you, thank you so much, I'd kiss your feet but well you know…"
The girl laughed. "It's no problem; I'm Phoebe by the way."
"Stella Yamada," she introduced with a grin. "Oh I know, I've seen you around school, my best friend loves your band," Phoebe informed as she led Stella to the back. "Oh that's cool!"
"Yeah she thinks so too," Phoebe said rolling her eyes good naturedly, "Anyway, since you don't know what you seem to be doing and I actually lied about helping non-girlies find their inner…girly-ness, I'll just let you pick a dress from the rack in the dressing rooms."
"Seriously?" It sounded like relief to Stella.
"Yeah, I mean, I can't even get my friend Kat to wear a skirt, what makes me think I can get the Stella Yamada to wear a dress she hates?"
"You're an angel Phoebe!"
"Yeah I know, but unfortunately its company policy that you do a little cat-walk twirl for each dress, so…uh…choose wisely 'kay?"
"What do you mean 'company policy'?"
As they reached the changing rooms, Phoebe pulled the rockstar towards individual curtains and pulled the fabric away revealing the mini cat-walk and the single chair where the cat-walk ended. "Uh…what's with the chair?"
"Oh, well, see the owner likes torturing her younger brother and makes him work here by sitting in that chair and watching girls parade their dresses. Though it doesn't really make a difference, he just sits there on his phone in any case and doesn't look up without scowling."
"Geez…is he here today?"
"He'll be here in a while."
"How much time?"
"Probably until you find a dress, unless you're quick which I wouldn't recommend."
"How come?"
"Some dresses are a little…odd, Roxanne Beech has a tendency to like what Nikki Minaj wears…better than Lady Gaga, but still."
(^^)
Chapter four: Company Policy
"It's so…puffy…"
"Yeah, Kat says it looks like some overpriced French dessert," Phoebe stated with a roll of her eyes.
"Yeah, I agree," Stella claimed, trying to push the eye-sore yellow dress down as it tended to puff up like a ballerina's tutu, "I'm not wearing this in public."
"Sadly you're going to have to take your walk; you did come out with it."
"What? No way!"
"Sorry Stella, its company policy as soon as you come out of the changing room you have to model what you wear," Phoebe claimed, gently pulling the revolutionary past the curtains. "Don't worry though, he isn't here yet so no one but you and me will see."
She heaved a sigh. "Are you sure?"
"I'll go check if you want?"
"Please," she begged.
Again, Stella didn't care what people said about her but her reputation as a kickass rockstar would be for nothing if all anyone could do was picture her looking like an overcooked crème puff. Who would take a guitar playing crème puff seriously?
Shaking her head, she watched as the streaked haired teenager disappeared out into the front of the store. A few minutes later, Phoebe returned with a thumbs up. "We're good Stell, don't worry. Now, strut your girly ass self!"
"Uh….?"
The salesgirl almost fell over. "Uh, just walk Stell."
"Er..okay?" Were all 'normal' girls this weird?
One foot after the other, Stella walked atop the ramp. It was easier wearing her sneakers but the dress was unbelievably puffy and messed with her balance. Unsteadily, she finished the route of the catwalk and pretty much ran back into the changing room with another dress.
Phoebe slapped a hand against her forehead. "Oi Vey."
Twenty minutes down the line and eight dresses later, Stella was exhausted and completely and utterly annoyed.
She must be an insult to the female population, she concluded as she slipped out of a hideously mermaid like dress. It would probably look better on someone taller and maybe someone with gills, she thought throwing the gown onto the hook and trying on the next dress in the pile.
This would be a lot easier if someone sifted through all the random dresses. Like that Princess Pony ones. Wasn't that a ten year old kind of dress?
If only Phoebe actually knew something about dresses.
It turns out the streaked haired teenager was paid to be a Yes-Girl. A whole lot of good that did; and she wasn't even good at it!
Phoebe outright laughed until her lungs gave in and her ribs cracked. Stella should've known wearing a dress three times her size and not zipping it up because she couldn't reach it, was a bad idea. But no.
Oh well. She checked her phone. It would still be another forty minutes until Mo came back with her shoes. At least she was saved from that.
"What do you think?" Stella asked as she stood in front of the floor to ceiling mirror, the dress kissing the floor delicately as it hugged her waist and bust while the rest of it flowed like a waterfall down her legs.
It was a white toga gown with a gold belt to match.
Phoebe tilted her head. "How does it feel?"
"Very…light…it feels like I'm not even wearing anything."
"Does that make you uncomfortable?"
"Uh yeah…kind of."
"Well, suck it up rockstar, it's time to strut yourself!" Phoebe claimed, and reminded, "Don't forget to sway your hips!"
Stella rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, let's just get this over with."
Of all the things she'd expected when the curtains were drawn and the dramatic theater light shone onto her, Stella hadn't expected to be staring at Ray with his gaping mouth and his eyes as wide as saucers.
"Whoa…Yamada?"
"…oh shit."
(^^)
Chapter five: Making Deals
"What do you mean your sister owns this store?"
"My dad gave her money to start a business of her own, she picked this."
"But…but…URGH!"
Groaning loudly, the half-Asian revolutionary made an exit back into the changing rooms where she hoped to faint from hot flush on her cheeks and choke on her embarrassment. Of all the people to see her so un-Stella-like, it had to be Ray!
The white toga gown at least didn't make her look pregnant nor make her resemble a fish, but why did it have to be him?
"Stella?" Phoebe called questioningly as Stella heard her enter the changing rooms. "Stella?" the teenager pounded on her cubicle door. "Stella are you alright?"
"You didn't tell me it was Ray!"
"I thought you knew! I mean, I did tell you that Roxanne Beech owned this place didn't I?"
"Well yeah but I just figured it was a common last name!" she defended, though the excuse sounded pretty stupid to her own ears. She was so focused on getting rid of Mo for an hour that she hadn't paid much attention to what the streak haired teenager had said.
"Yeah, like a sixteen year old Stella is common," Phoebe retorted, rolling her eyes as she continued to hit the door with her palm. "Stella, come on, company policy says you got to cat-walk."
"Get rid of him and I will!"
"I can't! He's my boss's brother!"
"Well I'm not going out there if he's there!"
"What's wrong with him seeing you in a dress?"
There was a pregnant pause.
What was wrong?
It was just Ray.
She didn't care about what people thought of her as long as they still took her seriously, Stella even sent a few pictures of herself in some of the ridiculous dresses and sent it to her friends though she avoided sending any to Mo in case the Indian bassist would think that she needed help and rushed over.
Charlie and Wen sent her LOLs and BBM rolling-over-laughing faces. Olivia critiqued meekly before bursting out laughing as well.
It made her feel ridiculous and silly. Stella figured that she shouldn't take herself seriously when it came to the girly transformation Mo was forcing her to undertake but revealing this to anyone beyond her usual circle of friends made her nervous enough to throw up. Well maybe not. But the idea was pretty sickening.
"Because he's Ray!"
"I'm impressed; my name's an insult now."
Stella froze, in the process of removing the dress and practically half exposed in the changing cubicle, she could practically feel Ray's blue eyed gaze.
"Don't ignore me, you're hurting my feelings," Ray drawled, his voice toned with teasing sarcasm.
"Shut up Beech, if I wanted to hurt your feelings, I wouldn't be ignoring you."
"There's my loudmouth." She snorted. "What do you want Beech?"
"Phoebe said you wouldn't come out until I left." Inwardly the guitarist cursed her. "That's none of your business." He snickered, obviously noticing the discomfort in her voice. "Stella it isn't anything personal, it's just a gimmick like that lemonade you and those loser friends of yours drink."
"They aren't losers you douche, we're revolutionaries!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've heard that speech before," Stella could practically hear Ray rolling his eyes. "Unfortunately my sister will gut my insides with a plastic spoon if I don't sit here like I'm supposed to, so you're just going to have to suck it up and get out here."
"And I'd do what you say because…?" she challenged, already out of the dress and in the process of getting into her jeans.
"Because I heard about your little problem," he trailed conspiratorially.
Stella paused. "What did you hear exactly?"
"That a certain Indian nerd is going fairytale godmother crazy on you."
"…I'm going to kill Phoebe," she muttered and rubbed a hand over her face in irritation. "Alright," Stella began loudly, "so what are you going to do about it?"
"I'll help you pick a dress so that Mo won't have an ulcer."
"…what makes you think she will if I don't find a dress?"
"Do you really want to spend your whole Saturday going through another pile of dresses?" Ray posed, listening to the soft shuffling going on beyond the closed cubicle door.
Warily Stella glanced at her self-made Rejection-Pile and shuddered.
"And what do you get out of this?"
"The satisfaction of seeing the Stella Yamada be the girly princess she probably was before she picked up a guitar and learnt how to speak."
With a sigh that sounded more like a laugh, the half-Asian revolutionary conceded, "Touché Ray, touché."
(^^)
Chapter six: Finding the dress
"Do you always wear dresses with sneakers?"
Stella raised a brow. "The better question is: did I ever own a dress?"
"Oh hell Yamada, you really are an insult to the female population," Ray commented, leaning back in his chair with a snicker. She rolled her eyes at him. "Who asked you, you fake blonde?"
"Hey don't blame me for your generic failure; maybe you're just missing a Y chromosome?"
"Go die Beech."
"Only if you go with me," he returned, smirking as she rolled her eyes again. "So," Stella began, though loathing the question she had to ask, "What do you think?"
She wouldn't admit it.
Two hours from now she'd probably deny it under oath in the house of Honesty.
But as his eyes swept over her figure, liquid sapphire scanning every part of her with a calculating gaze; Stella felt extremely uncomfortable.
Quite suddenly she was aware of the fact that her knees were quite odd looking and worse, they just peeked out from underneath the dress which made them very noticeable. It didn't help that she realized too, the fact that her tan lines were uneven. She got enough sun everyday due to her routine walk home, but that didn't mean that she had that golden Greek goddess California tan.
She didn't resemble a Cheeto or Extreme Cheese Doritos, but she wasn't sickly Bella pale either.
The fact that she didn't work out often and that there was fat behind her legs and on her arms, made her extremely conscious of her own movements, Stella wanted to die.
Of all the times Ray looked at her (or glared as she preferred to refer it as), why did she have to notice now how his gaze seemed to be analyzing her.
She cleared her throat when the silence became too thick.
"Well?"
"You look like you're wearing my curtains."
Stella blinked and focused on what she was currently wearing. It wasn't as bad as the mermaid one or the inflated crème puff, but it wasn't the greatest dress ever made.
It was a greenish color, very dark though, with white snow flake imprints all along the fabric.
Close up it looked fine.
From Ray's position, it looked like something you'd find on your grandmother's upholstery.
"These look like your curtains?"
"Yeah, it reminds me of the one at my grandmother's house."
Oh the irony.
She sighed. "Take two."
Disappearing and reappearing several times with a variety of dresses, Stella wasn't suffering as much as she thought. Because Ray didn't want to be seen actually working and Stella didn't want to risk having an audience, the two remained in the changing rooms where the only thing that separated them on the occasion of a dress-change was the cubicle door.
Time seemed to move faster as Ray's commentary on the dresses was outright outrageous:
"It looks like someone gave birth to a litter of kittens on that thing…please don't tell me that's fur."
Sometimes completely on the mark:
"Did a clown wipe its face on that thing?"
"I'm pretty sure they killed a Smurf to make that dress, or maybe an Avatar?"
And sometimes a lot deeper than she expected of him:
"Don't wear that...ever…other than the fact that it makes me want to puke just looking at it, it's too distracting." She rolled her eyes, pressing a fist onto her hip. "Oh really, in what way?"
"It's so freaking neon that I can't even look at you."
"Gee thanks, maybe I should just get this one then," Stella concluded, tugging at the bright neon green mini-dress. "It's the shortest, tightest dress this store has in stock, and the colors are just so bad no one will look at me. That's perfect!"
"Don't kid yourself Stella, as much as I'd love to watch people go colorblind seeing that dress, it doesn't deserve to even touch you."
However despite the entertainment the two received from Stella's dress modeling, both were getting bored.
"I don't know how girls do this," Ray complained, beginning to pace so that the blood would go the full circuit down to his toes and back to his head. He clicked his neck.
"Urgh."
"What?"
"Don't do that," Stella ordered as she disappeared back into the cubicle to fit another dress. "It's disgusting."
"There's nothing wrong with clicking your bones back into place," he defended.
"Well there is if it reminds me of nails on a chalkboard."
He sighed, ran a hand through his hair and collapsed back onto the chair he'd occupied for the past half an hour. "Can you just pick a dress already?"
"What do you think I've been doing for fifty minutes?"
"I don't know, showing off your feminine assets?"
She snorted. "In your dreams Beech."
"Probably."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Stella demanded as she slipped on the next dress, reaching behind her to zip it up.
"The upside to having to work for my sister is having a pretty girl parade around for me. The downside: it makes me feel like I'm friend-zoned."
As she opened the door, Stella claimed, "If it makes you feel better you're enemy-zoned."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's the same thing."
Their routine established, the half-Asian guitarist stood before the soccer playing front-man and met his steely blue eyes. "How about this?"
Ray hadn't expected that.
Of all the dresses she'd tried on over the past thirty-minutes, none looked better than this on her.
What surprised him was how girly the color choice was.
"Huh…pink looks good on you," it was said off-hand, to make it sound more fact than opinion. Which in this case, would be both, and Ray preferred it if she just saw his comment as fact and not personal choice.
But hell, did she looked good in pink.
The loud, hot pink dress was a short one that folded at the hem to give it a sort of balloon like shape. It made her skin look radiant, her eyes look brighter and her lips look oh-so-tempting.
And it didn't help when she smiled shyly in reply. "Really?"
Hell yeah, really! His mind practically cheered, doing a stupid hormone crazed victory dance at being the first to see her like this.
There was a silence.
The blonde soccer player was trying to reconnect his brain. Stella wearing a pink dress and smiling at him was too much for his mind to handle and his testosterone levels weren't helping.
Oh the joys of being a teenage boy.
Where was a cold shower when he needed one?
(^^)
Chapter eight: Cinderella's sneakers
He didn't know what he was doing.
One minute he was staring like a dumb fool at Stella and the next he's walking her to a restaurant.
Still dressed in the hot pink ensemble from the store and the black and white sneakers she wore before her girly transformation; males of all ages were stopping to stare at the revolutionary.
But of course they would.
Stella Yamada looked beautiful.
Not a traditional Cinderella type beautiful with the blonde hair, blue eyes, porcelain pale skin and classic blue ball-gown. But beautiful in a way that only Stella knew how.
Phoebe preened Stella's bronzed brunette locks to a neat upsweep so that her darker, natural hair color fell over her forehead and just teased the top part of her eyes. The salesgirl of his sister's store also applied some quick easy-to-go make-up which happened to consist of a light application of mascara and a large amount of eyeliner, a bit of cherry blossom blush and a peppering of nude lip-gloss on her salmon pink lips.
Ray felt his head ache just watching all this work.
Just to look pretty, only to want a guy who loves them in sweats? Girls were so difficult to understand.
Stella seemed just as annoyed with all this fuss as well, especially when it came to the eyeliner.
Even as she walked beside him, she groaned and kept pulling at the skin just below her eye. "Geez it felt like she was coloring me in," she complained.
But it was worth it. Ray thought. If her eyes were enticing before, they were smoldering now. He was most likely fifteen seconds away from pushing her up against the wall and having his way with her. But he was also fifteen seconds away from gutting every guy that looked her way.
Damn it.
Stupid dress.
Stupid make-up.
Stupid Stella.
"Remind me again why I'm bringing you to this stupid restaurant?"
"Because I'm pretty?"
Well there was that…
"And also because you didn't want me to walk alone for some stupid reason," Stella replied, practically skipping beside him.
Yep. And that reason happened to be all the guys checking her out as they walked towards the desired destination. Ray's hand kept twitching. He wanted so badly to put his arm around her and give all those losers a shit-eating smirk, but he wasn't in the mood to think rationally and therefore give a plausible excuse for the behavior, so he made a fist and willed himself to ignore the urge.
"Stupid Mo; and her stupid text message," she muttered, cutting him off from his inner turmoil.
"Remind me again what she said."
Sighing, Stella reached into Ray's pocket where she'd shoved his phone, her excuse for it being: "This dress doesn't have pockets, putting something like a Blackberry in your bra is pretty difficult y'know." No he didn't. But now he had that mental picture and he hated Mo even more.
He flinched as Stella's hand pressed against his thigh to grab her phone.
She didn't seem to notice as she clicked a few buttons and read in her generic Mo voice: "Super excited. Got a surprise for you! See you at Roberto's. Wear your dress, don't stress about your shoes. Have fun Stellerella!"
"What the hell's a Stellerella?"
"Apparently it's my version of Cinderella," she replied, rolling her eyes. "How cliché."
"Agreed."
"Why does she want me to meet her at Roberto's? Isn't that some couple café or something?" Stella asked, as they rounded the corner and were met with a widely grinning Mo.
"Ah!"
"Oh my gosh, Stell! You look amazing; Phoebe did a good job on you! Wow!"
"Geez Mo," the half-Asian exclaimed, one hand on her heart and the other clutching onto Ray's forearm for support. Where did the Indian violinist come from?
Instead of answering, she waved the question off and practically threw a fancy package at her. "Those are your shoes, put them on and get in there!" Stella raised a brow. "What for?"
"I got you a date!"
"…you're kidding me right?"
"Nope!" Mo responded cheerfully, obviously ignoring the flat expression on her friend's face. "He's smart and he's nice. He's in my String Instrument group!"
"Oh yeah, she got you a stud there Yamada," Ray commented, his sarcasm needed to bring the guitarist back to earth.
"You got me a what-now?"
"A date," she repeated, rolling her eyes.
"Mo, normal friends get other friends food when they're hungry, ice-cream when they're sad and a shovel when shit goes down. Normal friends don't get each other boys."
"Well congratulations, I'm not a normal friend!"
"Believe me, I'm thrilled," Stella claimed, trying not to think about the whole day wasted on useless girly things, and wincing. "But I really don't need a date."
"Well I didn't get you all girlied up to have you sit at home by yourself! Put on your shoes and go get your Prince Charming!"
Before Stella could try and dissuade her friend, Mo bounced off, cheerful and hyper all at once. The guitarist rubbed her forehead with her hand. "Oh geez…"
"Looks like you're off Stellerella," Ray stated, handing her the expensive looking package.
"The shoes?"
"I guess," he replied, watching as she tore open the material to reveal a dramatic ankle boot with a stiletto heel and an insane amount of gold accents.
Stella seemed more focused on the steep heel.
"Oh hell, I can already feel my ankle twisting."
"Then don't wear it."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, because Cinderella rolled up at the Prince's palace in a pink dress and sneakers."
"No, because Stella Yamada rocked up at my sister's store, went through more than twenty-two freaking dresses and walked off wearing hot pink and sneakers."
She sighed. "Mo will kill me if I don't wear the shoes."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
Huffing, Stella glared. "Fine, but you're staying here." The blond front-man had no time to argue as she placed a firm hold on him as she switched shoes. Her feet were adorned with the expensive looking footwear within moments and the guitarist never looked more in pain.
"I hate this. I hate this. I hate this."
She took two steps and almost fell over if it weren't for Ray's fast reflexes.
In his hold, Stella lamented, "How in the high heaven did Cinderella manage to dance until midnight with heels made of glass? She must've been a sadist or something!"
"Maybe Stellerella's better in sneakers."
"Yes," she cried in relief, "this Cinderella prefers her feet attached and not bleeding!"
"What about the date Mo got you?"
Stella snorted. "Whoever he is, he can take these devil shoes and shove it. This Cinderella rolls in sneakers." Ray smirked; lifting her up bridal style as she dropped said 'devil shoes' to the ground.
"Good, I prefer my Cinderella comfortable when I whisk her off."
She laughed loudly.
"Mo's gonna get a heart attack when she finds out who my Prince Charming turned out to be."
FINIS
I know…random right?
By the way, Phoebe happens to be my best friend, love you sis!
The dress Stella wears at the end is the one she wore in an appearance with Chris Brochu. It's most popular picture of them together so if you just search Chris Brochu and Hayley Kiyoko on Google you'll probably find it.
Hope you guys enjoyed!
Leave me a line if you can!
Thanks for reading!
Ella Lavender